Kleopatra Selene, Future Queen of Mauretania
by Elanor Joy
Summary: Cleopatra's Daughter: Snippets of the book through Juba's eyes in no particular order.


Disclaimer: I do not own _Cleopatra's Daughter_, but am merely an admirer of Michelle Moran and her scholarship.

_Juba's POV_

I paced the hall anxiously. No one save Augustus, Agrippa, and myself knew what was happening in the adjoining room. I tried to envision Selene before Caesar, prayed that she wasn't throwing herself at his feet as she begged him to marry her to anyone but me. I ran my hands through my hair and winced when the action pulled my wounded muscles the wrong direction.

She had no choice but to do as Augustus commanded, but would she be happy with his decision for her future? She had known all along that she would be married at fifteen. I had overheard her commiserating with Julia about her fear of being wed of an old, fat senator. I hoped she would at least be grateful for me. There were only seven years between us and she would be made a queen. I knew of girls who would kill for such an opportunity.

But those girls were not the princess Selene. She was as wise as she was lovely and with all of the misfortune she had blamed on me, would she ever be able to love me as I loved her? It was difficult to say. Even though her silence about my being the Red Eagle should have said something about her respect and affection for me, it was difficult to imagine her being able to turn her heart so easily. I continued to pace, this time calling on gods I didn't believe in for their blessing.

And then everything happened at once. Like the last time I'd seen her, I heard Selene before I saw her. She was beautiful, though wane and thin, with dark circles beneath her eyes, and she flying towards me in a blur of dark hair and shimmering silk. Before I could worry about her haggard appearance, she was in my arms and I was filling my nose with the sent of her hair. I tried to clutch her to me, tried to hold her as I had wanted to for years, but she was pulling away. Her bright eyes scanned my body and her mouth was forming words, but I couldn't make them out over my heart pounding in my ears. I took a deep breath and tried to to focus on what she was saying, relishing on the way her hands felt as she ran them over my arms and chest.

"I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't-"

I pressed my finger to her lips, suddenly understanding why she looked so pale and tired. I wished I could press my lips against them instead, but not sure if she would allow it, and settled for cupping her face in my hands. "The men at the temple were mine. There was no attack."

"But the mess-" Her eyes were wide and it occurred to me for the first time how she must have reacted to the death of the Red Eagle. Of their own accord, my fingers had moved from her mouth to entangle themselves in her hair and I tried to sooth her.

"It was bull's blood. I think I'm going to survive."

"And your shoulder?"

I let go of her hair to show her the stitched wound and how it was already healing. Her eyes filled with tears and I wanted to pull her close again, to kiss them away, to swear that she'd never weep again as long as it was in my power, but I couldn't yet.

"I hope you're crying with happiness and not with disappointment." I managed to choke out. I knew that if she didn't want me, it would kill me and that I would send her away rather than make her suffer, even though it would be like blotting out the sun.

"How could I be disappointed?" Her eyes widened and her lovely face showed traces of shock, but I wasn't sure.

"Perhaps you wanted someone else."

One of her hands was in my hair, the other on my cheek, and her eyes staring into my soul, My heart soared. "No." Her fingers were soft and cool against my face and I wanted to grab them and kiss them.

"I want you."

"Me or the Red Eagle?"

She cocked her head to the side and beamed at me, "Perhaps both."

"You know the Red Eagle is gone. I've done what I can in Rome. Someone else must continue the fight." I whispered, to myself as much as to her. I stroked her hair, hoping she wouldn't be too disappointed.

"Like Gallia?"

"And Verrius and many other good people. But Augustus would have suspected it was me eventually. So I'm afraid your Red Eagle is dead." I had known it would end all along, but it still ached to say.

"Dead? Or just flown away to Maurentania?" I couldn't respond to her with certainly, but I was glad that she would approve of continuing my actions in our country. She took my silence as acquiescence. "I suspect it's the latter."

"There will be no more rebellion. No more daring acts of kindness." Not with her in my house, not while she was under my protection, not if she were to be my wife. I would do nothing to risk our future.

"You mean we won't get to run through burning buildings?" My mouth twitched at the memory, wanting to laugh at her wit, but profoundly grateful that I had lived through that day due to her strength and bravery. Instead I stared at her, jubilant in the fact that she, impetuous, perfect Selene, wanted me.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not staring, I'm observing," I quipped, even though I had been staring and was not ashamed of it.

"And what do you observe?"

I stared at the creature I had spent the past five years observing and my heart lurched in my chest. She, who had been exceedingly lovely even in the throes of sorrow and mourning, was radiant in this moment, and I allowed my memories of her to wash over me before I answered.

I remembered holding a dagger to her throat when she was a child of ten and marveling in the beauty of her amber eyes even then, before Octavian declared her to be mine. I remembered the way she had maintained her dignity and grace, even as she was paraded before her people upon Caesar's conquest of Egypt and the sound of her sorrow when she found her mother's corpse. In my mind's eye, I saw her at the railing on her mother's _thalamegos _and her expressive eyes conveying her desire to jump. It was the first time I had saved her life, and it was the first time I had realized that she was more to me than just an imprisoned princess.

I remembered how she had collapsed into Marcellus' arms after disembarking from the _thalamegos_ and I felt a familiar pang of jealousy at the memory of the look in her eyes. I had spent the rest of the day cross and sarcastic and said nasty things which I'd then instantly regretted. I saw her dressed as a Roman for the first time and the way I'd felt a pang of pity when I saw her stripped of the dress of her country. I saw her face at the Triumph and the pain in her eyes when Agrippa put chains on her wrists. I remembered saving her a second time and the anger I had felt at the thought of her being harmed.

I remembered following her and the other young people around in the days after the assassination attempt in the theater and how I'd wished that she would have given me the same sort of glances that she favored Marcellus with. Her temper and sharp tongue had more than once made me reconsider accepting Caesar's offer of our union. Even so, I had watched her intently whenever I could. I knew her expressions, her moods, her very being better than any other, save Alexander.

I had admired her for her beliefs, values, and brave heart. When she had given me her mother's necklace to pay the price of Gallia's freedom, I had never felt more proud of anyone, nor more ashamed of myself for my lack of courage to do something the thirteen year old girl didn't think twice about. She was brave and smart and never ceased to surprise me, even though I couldn't betray it. And now she was in my arms, waiting for me to answer her question.

"A brave young woman who has always fought for what was right, even when it was unpopular. A woman who can't return to the land of her birth, but is welcome to cross the seas and rebuild Alexander in mine. And a woman who has suffered enough in Rome and deserves happiness for a change. Will you come to Mauretania and be my queen?"

I tried to pull away, to see her face, but she pulled me tight and I relished in the feeling of her arms around my neck. Her breath tickled my skin as she whispered one word. "Yes."

Had she who was never without a waterfall of quick words for my ears had been rendered nearly speechless? Even so, her reply made me grin in delight. "Just yes?"

Her searing kiss eliminated the need for further explanation.


End file.
